


Wingmen

by AJadeLion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Hirugami Fukurou is a good captain and good older brother, Hirugami Fukurou is a little shit, Hoshiumi Kourai and the Adlers, Hoshiumi Kourai centric, M/M, Marriage Proposal, but most importantly, i've never written fluff before jesus christ, no beta we die like men, written for found family week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJadeLion/pseuds/AJadeLion
Summary: Hoshiumi Kourai thinks he's ready to propose. His captain seems to think otherwise.Somehow the rest of the Adlers get roped into Kourai's perfect plan to show off how he's the ideal marriable man.
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 23
Kudos: 154





	Wingmen

**Author's Note:**

> If you asked me what I thought my first HQ fic would be this would Not be it but alas here we are in found family week and sometimes a deadline is a positive inspiration.
> 
> I really never thought I'd write almost pure fluff but here we are. 
> 
> Huge thank you and shout out to The Void, especially Mika who was there was this thought baby was born and Claire who is the only person in the world who probably has a chance at catching who Fukurou is married to.

“Did everyone get a copy?”

Kourai’s teammates all grumble various sounds that, while lacking enthusiasm, all seem vaguely affirmative in nature.

He stands still, surveying the locker room for a quiet second, watching as about half of his teammates takes advantage of the opportunity to flip half-heartedly through the stapled packets Kourai distributed. 

“Kourai? What is this?” Sokolov asks with a skeptical eyebrow raise. 

Kourai beams down at the papers still grasped tight in his hands and finds his own face wearing the same expression staring back, “It’s a pamphlet all about me.” 

“Yes, we can see that,” Nicollas relents with a bemused chuckle, “But why?”

Pushing back his shoulders, stretching his already straight spine, and lifting his chin a couple of centimeters high, Kourai declares with a clear of his throat, “If you would lend me your attention for a moment I will explain.” 

Silence falls as the other Adlers each take in the way that Kourai stands between them and the only door out. 

“Explain away.” 

Spending a couple of seconds rustling through the papers, Kourai triumphantly holds up a printed image for the room, “Are you all familiar with this man?” 

Over a dozen pairs of pairs slide in unison to glance at the door their captain vanished through just moments before. 

“Hirugami Fukurou? Our captain?” 

“Yes.”

With a polite raise of his hand and his brow furrowed, leaning forward to get a closer view at the pixelated roster image, Ushijima asks, “Why is he orange?” 

“The printer was running out of ink. It doesn’t matter.”

Heiwajima looks up from his phone with a sigh, “Yes Kourai, we are familiar with Fukurou.” 

“Alright, and this man?” With a flourish, Kourai tosses the print out of Fukurou in the general direction of his packed bags, revealing a new image. 

“Hirugami Sachirou?”

“Your boyfriend,” Kageyama states with a somewhat smug tug at the left side of his mouth. 

“Yes, good. Some of you may already be aware that I am preparing to propose to Sachirou.” 

Nicollas’ smile flashes wider, “Parabéns.” 

Sokolov shifts his weight to lean against his knees, “Is this you asking us to be in your proposal?” 

All of a sudden anxiety rushes back through Kourai, zapping him of his false confidence and leaving his leg tapping against the seat at his locker.

Most of the time he can’t care less if his teammates consider him young or not. He doesn’t care how others see him. If they think his relative inexperience is a disadvantage. In many ways, it’s no different than being short. At the end of the day, they don’t matter because on the court he’s already proven that he’s better. 

But Fukurou, Fukurou is different because Fukurou still sees the 13-year old who sobbed in his arms while delirious from the flu and sometimes struggles to see him as the young man dating his younger brother. 

And even still, 98% of the time that’s fine. Kourai loves what the team has. He loves having teammates who tease him relentlessly as only older brothers can but at the end of the day has never doubted his abilities or his love for the sport. Now more and more he even has younger players who look up to him as a mentor who occasionally needs teasing and putting in their place. 

The problem is not that Kourai doesn’t love what he has. In fact, the problem is that he loves it so much. He’s never been the best with change. Every year he finds that he loves playing volleyball more and every year when the season ends and they all go their separate ways, there’s this terror that sits in his stomach for months that knows when they come back, things won’t be the same. 

This year that fear has started early. There are still weeks left in the season but Kourai knows that they have players retiring and players leaving the country and so come next year the team will look entirely different. 

But scarier still, are the changes he’s going through. The realization that he’s still growing, internally at least, and that he’s ready for the next steps in his relationship with Sachirou. But he’s scared of what’ll happen if Fukurou doesn’t see that in him. 

It’s an insecurity that runs deep enough it already had Kourai cashing favors with Gao and Sakusa, nights spent brainstorming with perhaps the world’s strangest romantic task force. But they’re not here. Not physically at least, they don’t interact with Fukurou on a regular basis and so now, Kourai turns for additional external aid from his teammates, who, come down to it, he trusts with his life. 

“Not exactly. Lately, Fukurou has expressed some, uh, concerns about our readiness for marriage. I think he thinks we’re still too young.”

Nicollas clicks his tongue, “You’re both what? 23? Young but I wouldn’t say outlandishly so. Especially considering you’ve been together for a while.” 

“How long _have_ you been dating?” Ushijima follows up.

“Excellent question.” Kourai praises, yanking the speaker notes back the front of his increasing shuffled stack of papers, “You’ll actually find the answer to that and more in section 3,” he squints at the tiny font that Sakusa picked for the table of contents, “sorry, section 4 of your handouts. Under the header Relationship Details.”

Relative silence falls as the rest of the Adlers obediently turn their eyes down to the text that Kourai has thrust upon them. 

Finally, Sokolov looks up, the angle of his paper blocking the smile on his lips but not in his eyes, “Well, which is it? Under Relationship Length, it says “6 years or 4 years or 2 plus 2.33 years.” Which is it?” 

“It’s been six years since we first kissed but we didn’t officially get together until two years later, and then there were the couple of months where he thought I broke up with him but I hadn’t so I didn’t know if those months counted towards the total or not. I think this all explained in the footnotes or appendix.” 

“Right.” 

Somewhere to the left of Kageyama, a strangled sound of shock escapes the lips of a player discovering the even smaller text beginning on the 4th page.

“What is it you do want then?” Nicollas asks, with the practiced firmness of a father not yet impatient but well on his way there. 

“I’m getting there!” Kourai promises, a little bit of manic desperation starting to seep through. “As I said, Fukurou isn’t convinced I’m ready to marry his brother. I need your help convincing him otherwise.” 

“Oh no.” exhales Heiwajima, his eyes narrow as he scans Kourai from head to toe as if contemplating the pros and cons and simply charging him and making a break for it. 

“What I need from all of you is simple. Sachirou arrives on Saturday night to be here for Sunday’s match. I’m going to propose after that. Which means from now until the match I need you to talk me up to Fukurou. Say nice things, highlight my strengths.”

“Us. You want _us_ to do that?” 

“I’ve made it easy for you. You’ve each received a copy of " _A Comprehensive List of Hoshiumi Kourai's Best Traits, Talents, and Skills as cataloged by Habuka Gao. Heavily edited by Sakusa Kiyoomi. Additional commentary provided by Miya Atsumu_ ". If you’re ever at a loss for what to say you can consult any of the five sections from Section 1: The Basics all the way through Section 5: Hidden Talents.” 

Sokolov’s fingers drum rapidly on his knee, “What do we get out of this?” 

“The satisfaction of helping me, your teammate, who you love dearly?” Kourai pastes on his most angelic of smiles which gets a positive reaction from about 55% of the room which is admittedly higher than his usual success rate of only about 45%. 

It’s not enough not though. Heiwajima continues to eye him unimpressed, “And?” 

Kourai takes a stabilizing breath, he’s prepared for this possibility. He brainstormed with his odd crew and they’d come up with everything from Kiyoomi’s suggestion of chores to Gao’s, of simple monetary compensation. But ultimately Kourai has settled for something a little more personal. His nickname of the Seagull doesn’t just refer to his hair or his screech but also to his notorious snack snatching ways, “And I stop stealing everyone’s snacks when they’re not looking.” 

This gets Heiwajima’s attention, his feet hopping onto his locker seat, putting him in a bouncing squat, “Forever?” 

“Until the end of the season. I make no promises about next year.”

“Well hell. I was going to make another joke but you’re actually serious about this.”

The rest of the room mutters a quiet agreement. 

“I love him. Are you going to help me or not?” 

It’s been about a day and a half since Operation _Convince Captain Hirugami Fukurou that Hoshiumi Kourai is Marriage Material for Hirugami Sachirou_ or CCHFHKMMHS for short, officially launched and Kourai would say it’s going Okay. 

The number of copies of _A Comprehensive List of Hoshiumi Kourai's Best Traits, Talents, and Skills as cataloged by Habuka Gao. Heavily edited by Sakusa Kiyoomi. Additional commentary provided by Miya Atsumu_ laying around the gym dramatically dropped off between days one and two but that’s fine. Kourai doesn’t need the entire team on board, he just needs a few good eggs. And he already kind of had a sense ahead of time as to who they’d be. 

It’s just his eggs haven’t exactly started hatching yet.

Earlier, when he was discussing plans because apparently, his life has reached the point where Hakuba Gao and Sakusa Kiyoomi are his closest romantic confidants, that once he made his request of teammates, his friends, he’d let the chips fall where they may. He’d stop interfering. He would, so to speak, help his eggs along. 

But standing here now, watching Ushjima Wakatoshi stand less than an arm's length away from Hirugami Fukurou without saying so much as a word, all Kourai wants to do is strangle his previous self for making such a promise. 

Ushijima had seemed open enough to the concept of helping Kourai. He’s the only member who approached Kourai of his own free will and asked if it would be okay if instead of the provided script, he wrote and used his own personal anecdotes about Kourai’s marriable worth. He’d even taken the time to cut out his notes into neat little rectangles for easy access.

Kourai admittedly had been somewhat worried at first, Kiyoomi had combed through Gao’s compilation so thoroughly that the idea of going rogue from a vetted plan was concerning. On the other hand, while it might be easy to say that he and Wakatoshi have a somewhat odd friendship, the opposite hitter has never been anything but genuine and sincere and Kourai wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

And after reading through Ushijima’s adapted notes, Kourai’s only concern is that he’ll tear up if he hears the wrong one at the wrong time. 

Goddamn Kourai is going to miss him so much when he leaves.

Now, however, Ushijima stands, towel around his neck, water bottle held loosely in his left hand, his hanging empty at his sides, his cue cards nowhere in sight. 

Well actually, Kourai realizes, not nowhere in sight. The mini stack of cards sits against the opposite wall, tucked nearly against Ushijima’s tape bag and foam roller. 

Ignoring the tail end of whatever story Heiwajima is telling, Kourai dashes through milling players across on break, snatching Ushijima’s belongings from the floor and easily lapping back over to Ushijima and Fukurou. 

“Hey, Wakatoshi, need your roller?” Kourai holds the roller and notes out with the same hand. The textured surface of the roller crumpled the paper but the text remains legible. 

All 192.7 centimeters of Ushijima stiffens at Kourai’s abrupt arrival, “Oh. No thank you Hoshiumi.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t want to risk reinjury this early after returning.” 

Closing his eyes, Kourai paints a giant neon arrow sign over Fukurou’s head and mentally shoves it at Ushijima with all his might. And maybe. Just maybe all the years of working towards telepathic communication have paid off because something in Ushijima’s expression changes and holds his hands out to accept the object. 

“You’re right. It was careless of me to not at least have it nearby.” 

Fukurou hums a note of approval, “How is your shoulder feeling Wakatoshi?” 

“It is doing well. Rehabilitation went better than anticipated.” 

“That’s good at least but Kourai is right, don’t push it too hard too early. How are things at home? Is there anything you need a hand with?” 

Nearly ready to vibrate out of his own skin, Kourai knocks his shoulder into Wakatoshi’s lower arm. He knows for a fact that on one of those crumpled pieces of paper, there’s a handwritten personal anecdote that fits into this conversational opening perfectly.

Having deposited the roller at his feet, Ushijima’s hands are free to flip through the small paper stack with ease, “Things are going well. Earlier, last week I was having a new couch delivered to my apartment, and Hoshiumi Kourai, Outside Hitter for the Schweidan Adlers, 169.2cm, 61.7kg, helped me by moving the couch all on his own.” 

Having reached the end of his spiel. Ushijima’s attention pivots to Kourai who flashes a grateful thumbs up. 

“That was a nice thing for him to do for an injured teammate.” 

A shy smile spreads on Ushijima’s face. The genuine kind that doesn’t leave him looking in pain but instead softens his features and makes him appear younger than normal, “It was indeed. He even stayed afterward to cook a delicious meal.”

“Another very admirable quality.” 

Doing his best to remain calm and composed, Kourai chirps in, “Some might even say marriable.” 

“You’re right,” Fukurou agrees before taking a final swig from his water bottle, “ _Some_ might even say marriable. Come on. Time to get back to practice.”

Another day has passed since Kourai forced his first egg to hatch and he’s in the middle of contemplating his next move when Kageyama lives up to his reputation of being a prodigy and beats him to it. 

“Captain!”

Their younger setter stands before their captain with his feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart, chest puffed wide, radiating the confident determination of a child who had just been informed that his father would in fact be in the audience for the school play. 

_‘Sorry I doubted you Tobio,’_ Kourai thinks. He’s certainly more enthusiastic than anything else Kourai has seen thus far and Kourai knows better than most, that if Kageyama Tobio truly commits to something, stopping him is near impossible. 

Some childish part of Kourai still thinks of Kageyama as a rival. That there’s a resentful corner of his brain that still hasn’t let go of the fact that almost certainly the best setter he’s ever played with, started out tossing to a different Little Giant. And so, because of that, no matter how many years they’ve been teammates now, Kourai will alway be 2nd in Kageyama’s mind and that knowledge drives him to want to prove that he’s better. 

But, childish grudges aside, they’re friends. This is the first younger brother figure that Kourai has had outside of high school where everything feels much temporary. There’s a not so small part of Kourai that beams with pride every time Kageyama Tobio stuns the world yet again. 

Goddamn Kourai is going to miss him when he leaves. 

Not wanting to disrupt his teammate’s energy or miss out on an exhibit of masterpiece theater, Kourai drops to his hands and knees and begins to crawl along under the benches. 

Fukurou’s surprise is quickly concealed beneath an affable grin, “Tobio, what can I do for you?” 

“Do you know about our outside hitter Hoshiumi Kourai?” 

“I sure hope so considering I’ve known him since he was 11 and also we’ve been teammates for 5 years now.” 

A pause before Kageyama continues with renewed determination, “Oh. Well, can I tell you more about him?” 

Fukurou hums for a long second, lapping slowly around Kageyama before coming to rest on the bench doubling as Kourai’s hiding spot. 

Kourai makes an attempt to wiggle backward so that his face is not close enough to see every scar and bruise and blemish on his captain’s legs. 

“Why not. Hit me kiddo. What are the top items on the list of things that I don’t know about Hoshiumi Kourai?”

“Well. Um. Is there a particular topic you would like to know more about?”

From his new spot, Kourai finds that the only part of Kageyama that he can easily see is his left high but he can still make out the distinct sound of paper turning. 

Another exaggerated thoughtful hum, “Well, I know the basics, so, does he have any hidden talents?” 

“Yes!” Kageyama cries triumphantly. “Did you know that he can... he can juggle up to 7 apples at once?”

“I did not. Good to be reminded I can still always learn more about old teammates. That’s very impressive. I’ll have to ask him to show me some time.” 

Air whistles through Kourai’s gritted teeth. Of course, Kageyama in all of his good intentions would end up picking one of the few pieces of information that is not Strictly True. 

It’s also not a lie exactly. Kourai vetoed blatantly lying, yes it’s true that he juggled that many apples, it’s also true that he was horrendously drunk at the time and it was done with less precision than was actually worthy of respect. 

“That is just one of several skills he has.” 

Kageyama takes a deep breath in preparation to continue speaking but Fukurou cuts him off, “He’s lucky to have a teammate like you who’s so supportive and observant of his good qualities.”

Confusion falters Kageyama’s triumphant bravado, “Eh?”

“Kourai? Wouldn’t you agree?” 

The second half of Fukurou’s sentence is lost to Kourai as pain fireworks through his forehead, his body responding automatically to his name, sending his head colliding straight into the cold metal bar of the bench.

Like a child defeated in a game of hide n sneak, Kourai crawls out from beneath the bench and kneels sheepishly before Fukurou, “Yes captain?” 

Fukurou, well-practiced in the art of ignoring Kourai popping out from places he shouldn’t be, smiles warmly, “Wouldn’t you say that we’re lucky to have a setter like Tobio? Someone thoughtful and observant enough to note the intricacies that make us each unique? Someone who knows our individual strengths and weaknesses, not just in volleyball but in life?” 

“Of course. Lucky us.” 

The week is rapidly coming to an end and with it, Kourai is equally rapidly running out of time. Fukurou’s not so subtle stance on Kourai and marriage hasn’t budged and precious hours that Kourai should probably be dedicated to figuring out an actual proposal plan for before his boyfriend arrives are lost. 

The last ace up Kourai’s sleeve is to turn to the players more directly in Fukurou’s little cohort. Nicollas, Sokolov, and Heiwajima in particular. Nicollas and Sokolov are both married already and the latter is only a couple of years older than Kourai. Perhaps they can help him crack this particular mystery. 

He’s hesitant to push them though. Outside of Fukurou himself, Heiwajima teases Kourai more than anyone else on the team. And once he gets started the others are liable to join. If he tries to insert himself into the situation it’s far too likely it’ll spiral into something than helpful. 

So instead he watches.

Stretching is important. Kourai knows this. A critical step in warmup to prevent injury and maximize performance. But it goes beyond physical, Kourai finds. Typically during warmup in practices at some point players will break off into small groups to stretch at a leisurely pace while chatting and gossiping amongst themselves.

Taking the time allocated for strengthening their bodies to strengthen the bonds between them. 

So Kourai knows it’s a sacred time and he doesn’t dare disrupt anyone else while they stretch. So he instead watches from a respectable distance as Nicollas Romero, the Nicollas Romero, actual living legend Nicollas Romero, who Kourai still is sometimes amazed actually signed with them pushes captain Hirugami Fukurou’s torso closer to the ground. 

There’s experience in everything Nicollas does, Kourai finds, the best example perhaps being how he’s taken to not just speaking but naturally conversing in Japanese like a duck to water. Despite only knowing them for less than a year, there’s an affable fearlessness to him as he puts more weight on the knee driving into Fukurou and he asks, “When are you going to put the kid out of his misery?” 

Fukurou’s laugh is pained but it’s impossible to separate the question from the stretch, “When are you going to let Rubens get married?” 

Nicollas’ knee forces Fukurou another inch forward, “My son is a literal child, not a grown man.” 

“Yeah yeah, we’ll see if you’ve actually changed your tune in a couple of decades.”

“You have to give some credit to Kourai,” Heiwajima says with a light laugh that catches Kourai’s attention, “He is extraordinarily determined.” 

Sokolov exhales a relieved sigh as Heiwajima releases his leg from the press he was holding it in before chiming in with a friendly roll of his eyes, “Wildly inventive and resourceful too.” 

“And of course, infuriatingly in love.” Heiwajima finishes, voice dripping with mock disgust. 

Fukurou hops to his feet, his neck cracking as he rolls it a few times, his hands searching his back for particularly tight areas, “Hey, I’m not saying any of you are wrong. I’m just saying I have my reasons to want him to wait. At least a little bit longer.” 

“Well good luck with that.” 

_Fine,_ Kourai thinks, _Having other people talk to Fukurou clearly isn’t going to cut after all. Sorry Gao, sorry Kiyoomi, your plans were good but not good enough. Time to take more dramatic measures and talk to him man to man before time runs out.’_ But first, he realizes, he should probably get stretching for practice. 

By the time practice ends, it’s begun to drizzle and Kourai spends more time than he would have liked searching his locker for the umbrella he keeps tucked away. 

He thinks he’s lost his chance to confront Fukurou for the day but as he bursts out the front doors he finds his captain, taking shelter under the underhang, leaning against the wall, one hand holding his cellphone to his ear, the other idly spinning his keychain round and round. 

“Believe me, I have the situation under control. Don’t even worry about it,” A pause while the person on the other end of the line speaks speeds up the spinning keychain, “No-no he doesn’t know what I’m doing, seriously kid stop worrying. Study hard, make us proud.” Another shorter pause as Fukurou’s keys nearly go flying as he silently waves at Kourai, “I gotta go but I love you -Hey, Kourai!” 

“Captain.” Kourai greets. 

Fukurou gestures cheerfully at the dreary sky above, “We’re off the clock.”

“I thought professional athletes were never off the clock.” 

“Good point,” Before Kourai has a chance to pull away, Fukurou’s fingers have ruffled through his hair, “You seem like you’ve been keeping busy of late. Everyone says you’ve been extraordinarily helpful.”

“I try.” 

“That’s great, just don’t wear yourself out too much,” The mischievous glint vanishes from Fukurou’s eyes, “We can’t have you getting sick in the last weeks of the season.”

“I won’t. Promise.” 

Perhaps it’s cliche, he finds himself saying it every year after all but this season means more than any that have before. Which is perhaps an odd thing to say when you’ve already won the league twice in a row. But more than ever he’s determined to be in top condition when the season reaches its climax. 

“Good,” Light returns to Fukurou’s face, “Any big plans in the next few days?”

“Sachirou is coming in time for the match.” _And unless you tell me why I shouldn’t I’m going to propose._

“Is that so?” Fukurou bites at his bottom lip with the same thoughtful expression that Sachriou wears, “And the little brat can’t even be bothered to make time to come visit his older brother? Seems like ages since we had time to hang out doesn’t it? We should grab dinner after the match.” 

It does feel like it’s been ages. And of course, Kourai misses it. 

Kourai finds it in his heart to not be jealous of Sachirou’s family often. He knows that Sachirou had no more control over the fact that he was born into a volleyball family and Kourai wasn’t than Kourai did. 

He saw first hand how the expectations and legacies of his older siblings nearly destroyed Sachirou. That wasn’t something to be jealous of. 

But sometimes, when he was tired and his body ached and he wanted to give, Kourai went home to a mother who cared but a family who could never understand. Sachirou had a brother and a sister and parents who had been there. Who knew what it felt like. 

Kourai remembers the first time that Fukurou saw him play. Remember the first high five they shared and though they hadn’t known that one day they’d share the court, they could feel it was the start of something. 

Kourai remembers the unbridled pride Fukurou had had when Kourai first joined the Adlers. He remembers when the feeling of having an older brother who deeply cares was still new and almost foreign. 

He remembers realizing that they might one day actually be family. 

So maybe it seems stupid that he wants his boyfriend’s older brother’s approval to get married but he wants so desperately for Fukurou to want him in his family in the same way that Kourai wants Fukurou in his. 

He wants that feeling that they used to have when Sachirou would come and visit but he wants it forever. 

So yeah, Kourai misses that too. 

“I mean,” Kourai hesitates, “If you don’t already have plans I’d like that.”

Fukurou consults his phone with false intensity, “I think I can squeeze you in.” 

“Why don’t you want me to marry Sachirou?” Kourai bursts out before he can spend too much time thinking about it. 

He knows he should have done this from the start. Just come straight to Fukurou man to man. It’s not like Kourai’s ever had any issue being direct before. But he caught up in the dramatics of schemes and plans that only served to make a simple situation worse than it needed to be. 

He’s tired and he’s scared and he’s in love and he needs to know. 

“Ah,” Fukurou exhales for a full 8 count, “It’s not that I don’t think you should marry Sachirou. It’s just that I don’t see what the rush is Kou. You’re both young, he’s still going to be in school for another year, you both seem happy enough with your current situation. I know Aki and I make it look easy but there’s a lot of work that goes into a long-distance marriage. Why try to fix something that isn’t broken?” 

It’s true. They are happy and for that Kourai is unbelievably grateful. It’s also true that it’s somewhat odd that despite the length of their relationship they haven’t actually lived together year-round yet. Odd yes, but not unexpected. No matter who the other person is, it’s hard for a professional athlete to have a standard relationship. Throw in a vet student and of course, things aren’t going to function normally. 

So really, what it comes down to is it’s because it’s what Kourai wants now. He’s scared about the future. He’s sad that his close friends are leaving not just the team but the country. He loves Sachirou and he’s ready to commit to that of his life. 

“Because I want to marry him? Isn’t wanting to do something reason enough to do it?” 

“Yeah and that’s why I’ve never been dumb enough to try and get in the way of you getting something that you want. Even though sometimes I’m scared that one both of you is going to hurt in the process, I’ve never been delusional to think I would actually get in the way of you doing what you want to.” 

“Okay,” Kourai says, his voice small but strong, “That’s all I needed to know. Thank you Fukurou.” 

He doesn’t look back as he dashes out into the rain, umbrella unopened and forgotten at his side. 

They beat the Green Rockets in a match that’s too close for comfort but Kourai doesn’t care. In fact, they could have lost and Kourai wouldn’t care because Sachioru is here and there’s a ring in their apartment and all he has to do is get Sachirou there and with any luck, he’ll be engaged by midnight. 

But for some reason, it’s Sachirou whose knee bounces anxiously and keeps glancing at his phone like he’s keeping a secret. 

It’s Sachirou who, after sharing a long glance with his brother, eventually decides that it’s time to drag Kourai back to their apartment. 

Or, well, what Kourai thought was their apartment. But their apartment does not normally glow with the warmth of hundreds of tiny lights or glitter with hanging decorated tree branches. Their apartment does not normally have dozens of photographs hanging from every possible surface. 

“How?” Kourai asks, failing to tear his gaze away from the forest of photographs that have somehow taken root in his apartment.

“I may have called in a few favors with my brother and your teammates. I really wanted to surprise you.” 

With his right index finger Kourai traces his own jawline in a photo taken at their high school graduation, his face pressed in Sachriou’s chest, his fingers clasped desperately around Sachirou’s sleeve.

Kourai remembers the looming terror of separation. The feeling of wanting to never, ever let Sachirou go. The accompanying feeling of knowing that they had to. They each had their own dreams and they had to trust that even though they’d be apart, they wouldn’t lose each other.

 _‘Well,’_ Kourai thinks to his younger, scared self, _‘I haven’t lost him yet. And I don’t intend to.’_

“Kourai-kun,” Sachrious coos, a familiar sound as he cups an equally familiar hand around Kourai’s check, “Rai, hey, look at me.” 

Kourai slides his own hand along Sachirou’s, interlocking their fingers. “What’s going on?” The words come out strained as his body somehow forgets how to do everything including speak and breathe. Faintly some part of his brain is aware that between the transformation of his apartment and the way Sachirou is looking at him he should be able to put two and two together but even the simplest thoughts feel out of reach. 

“This is the part where I’m supposed to give a long-winded speech about all the ways you’ll don’t know how I love you. But I don’t think either of us actually wants that,” Sachirou laughs again and then sniffles and it hits Kourai that the sparkle in Sachirou’s eyes isn't just an artifact from the sparkling lanterns, “So I’ll cut right to it. Will you marry me?” 

When Kourai’s gaze finally falls it lands on the object cradled in Sachirou’s free hand. A small box near identical to the one he has stashed in their bedroom. 

“You,” Kourai’s finger raps against Sachirou’s collarbone, “want me,” he jabs not quite as gently at his own throat “to marry you?” His hand comes to rest over Sachirou’s heart. 

“Yes. Do you want to marry me?” Sachirous asks with the patience of a saint. 

“Yeah. I was going to ask you. Tonight. Or tomorrow I hadn’t quite decided yet.” Kourai confesses. His own half-cooked proposal plans feel impossibly small. 

Inexplicably, Sachirou’s smile doubles in size, “I know.” 

Kourai’s hand, from where it sits, pounds without any real force against Sachirou’s chest, “You. Know? How?” 

“I have my suspicions, you’ve never exactly been subtle Rai,” He takes a beat to look just a tiny bit ashamed, “And my brother confirmed it.” 

Kourai’s trademark volume returns all at once, “He told you?!” 

“He’s easily bribed.” 

“So you knew. You knew and you-” Kourai’s arms pinwheel wildly in reference to the room around them. 

Ring box still in hand and unafraid of flailing limbs, Sachirou takes Kourai’s face in his hands, “Rai, Rai, hey I love you and I want you have anything in the world but I’ve had this date circled on my calendar for months now and I couldn’t let you take this from me.” 

“Months?” Kourai echoes with heavy skepticism. 

“Yes, _months_. I wouldn’t have gotten my brother involved if I wasn’t desperate.” 

Kourai’s volume continues to rise as realization after realization hits, “You got Fukurou involved?”

“I told him he had to keep you from proposing at all costs. Well all costs short of you actually breaking up with him.” 

_Oh. Of_ _course_. That explains all of Fukurou's entirely too playful satisfaction at shutting down every one of Kourai's desperate attempts. All while showing no actual hostility towards Kourai or their relationship. His younger brother had given him free rein to mess with Kourai and Fukurou took advantage of every second. 

If Kourai were not so caught up in his own head he almost certainly would have caught on faster. 

As if finally noticing a major wound, Kourai’s entire body pitches forward, sending him crashing against Sachirou, tears he wasn’t even aware of 10 seconds earlier making their way down his cheeks.

“I hate you so much right now,” Kourai cries into Sachirou’s chest. 

Despite the sudden pain from where Kourai’s head had collided with his collarbone, Sachirous laughs, “Well do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me sometime before we get married?” 

“He was so mean to me,” Kourai whines, slightly softer than normal.

“That’s just how Fukurou is. Shouko too so don’t expect her to go easy on you.” 

Kourai exhales a soft reluctant sigh of acceptance and then, quieter still, “I thought he hated me.” 

Sachirou’s hand easily finds Kourai’s and links their fingers back together before pressing his lips to the union of their scarred and battered hands, “Darling, light of my life. He would never hate you. He loves you, he knows that you’re the reason I love myself.” 

“He’s my captain.”

“And he’s going to be your brother in law so you better be ready for a hell more teasing.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! <3  
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/AJadeLion)


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